


a thread into the dark

by westofmoon



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Mysterious, eventual rowaelin, fairy tale-ish, might continue, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26593528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westofmoon/pseuds/westofmoon
Summary: A witch finds something unexpected in the woods...
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Rowaelin - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	a thread into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> based off a three word prompt I saw earlier today “a forest that seems alive, a chain, a baby”. this just formed out of no where when I saw it. hope you like?

The moon shone full as the young witch wandered through the forest, its silvery light spilling between the mostly barren branches overhead, leaving shadows like gnarled hands crawling across the mossy carpet beneath her boots. 

All was quiet and peaceful, the only sounds that reached beneath her hood to her ears were the hooting of an owl somewhere off in the distance and the faint shuffling of some furry creature in its den beneath the hollow log to her left. She pulled her woolen cloak tighter about her thin shoulders, staving off the late autumn chill. 

But then suddenly, the trees began to stir, to clamor, their boughs shifting on a nonexistent wind as they began to whisper in that ancient language of theirs.

The woman paused, tilting her head back to look up at them, listening to their murmurings.

_Neònach… neònach._

Strange… strange… 

And then she sensed it, a new strand of magic in the air, woven and tangled with all of the other threads that made up the forest and the world. It was warm, like a ray of sun in the dark. 

Closing her eyes, she let her own magic reach out, felt it tingling though her limbs and out her fingertips. Lifting a hand she reached out before her and plucked that new strand out of the air. And as her fingers closed around that thread it solidified into a thin chain, like that of a fine necklace, shooting like a golden, glowing thread into the dark between the trees.

She followed it, between the gnarled oaks and towering pines, deep into the heart of Oakwald. The clamor of the trees only grew the further she went. _Neònach_ , they murmured in that nearly forgotten tongue, now remembered only by the fae and her own kin. _Tàcharan_ …

Ahead loomed an old ash tree, with its great, wide trunk and twisting limbs, and the warm chain slipping between her fingers led right to it, into the very heart of the tree itself. 

But as she moved closer, she that the chain disappeared into a large hollow into he side of the tree’s trunk, a scar left by a great storm that had raged a hundred years ago, and inside that hollow… she heard a small noise. A soft mewling whimper. 

_Tàcharan… tàcharan_ … the trees chanted, louder now.

The fine chain clinked with each, slow step she took, until she was standing before the tree. She released the chain and it vanished back into thin air, though still she could feel it. Feel the source of that magical thread waiting inside that tree. Slowly, she stepped up onto tangle of roots at its base, as if they were a staircase, and rose onto her toes to peer inside… 

There, visible in the light of the moon, was a baby. Bundled in an soft green blanket, it wriggled in discontent, as if it had only just awoken from sleep. 

Carefully, she lifted the child, cradling it in her arms. It was young, only a few months old. Her magic swept over the babe, searching for any harm that it might have suffered. A girl, her magic told her it was a little girl. 

_Tàcharan_ … Changeling…

There was something small and round wrapped up in one of the folds of the blanket, it almost felt like a coin or a pendant, but before she could inspect it, the babe began to whimper again. 

“Oh shush,” she crooned, rocking the her gently. Her fingers brushed over the tuft of golden hair and the blanket fell away to reveal the tip of a tiny pointed ear. Fae, this child was part fae. “Don’t you cry.” 

At the sound of her voice, the little one opened her eyes to look up at her. And her breath caught. Those eyes… Turquoise with a ring of gold around the pupil; those eyes were far to bright and focused and aware for one so young, but…

Her magic pulsed, and in that heartbeat that she held that child’s stare, the world opened up before her eyes. All this child was and would become. _Gaisgeach. Slànaighear. Bànrigh_.

She blinked her own dark eyes, coming back into herself, and she smiled down at the babe. That little face still staring up at her own. “You are coming with me, _beag_ ,” she said softly. “I shall take care of you until the time comes.”

And as she made her way back though the forest, towards her cottage and her husband waiting there, guided by the light of the moon, the trees continued to whisper in her wake of the child she carried in her arms.

_Bànrigh… bànrigh… Bànrigh na Teine…_

Queen of Fire.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I used Scottish Gaelic for the Old Language. translations = neònach (strange) ; tàcharan (changeling) ; gaisgeach (warrior) ; slànaighear (savior) ; bànrigh (queen) ; bànrigh na teine (queen of fire).


End file.
